Saturday, 31 December 2016



You served us well
maybe not every day 
was what we wanted
or what we planned
but here we are,
about to bid you farewell
and welcome in a fresh new beginning.
We've laughed and cried,
worked and rested,
been amazed and disgusted,
thrilled and disappointed..
and still we have hope
for every New Year is full of promise
for our families, our friends,
our future..
We welcome you with open arms
and hope for peace 
and understanding..
for tolerance...
and the ability to appreciate 
all our blessings.

©Crissouli Dec. 31, 2016

Images Pixabay



Where did it go, what did you do with it..
was it treasured, revered, acknowledged
or did it simply pass you by?
It was a bonus, a gift..
something to be valued..
did you notice?
Sometimes, gifts come beautifully wrapped
sometimes, simply thrust forward
as an afterthought, or an apology.
But this gift was well planned
a very long time ago
and it was given without conditions.
I hope you used it well
for you won't receive another
till four years pass by.

©Crissouli 31 Dec., 2016

Image Pixabay

Monday, 26 December 2016


(c) Alexandra Daw


Tired sentinels, waiting
not quite at attention
too many miles travelled
no longer strong
yet so many tales to tell
of days and nights of wandering
of searching and hoping
till tiredness overwhelmed.
Maybe he'll return
one day...
Till then, wait, silently..
life is full of silent whispers!

(c) Crissouli Dec 24, 2016

Note: This poem was inspired by the wonderful photo 
posted by my friend, Alex, 
who suggested it as a writer's prompt. 
I can't resist such a challenge, so, hope you enjoyed this.

Sunday, 11 December 2016



I heard your name today, but no one spoke
I felt your touch, but I was alone
I reached out to hug you, my arms were empty
I long for just one more word, just one touch
Just to hear your name, hear you say mine..
Did I hear your name, or was it my heart missing you..
Just a whisper on the wind....

(c)Crissouli Dec 12, 2016

Image Pixabay

Tuesday, 18 October 2016



I dream of you calling my name
I run to you and you lift me on to your shoulders
How safe I felt then and in charge of the world.

"I can see forever, Daddy.."

"Forever's a very long way..'

"I know and I can see it, way over there.."

I run beside you struggling to keep up
while you laugh and take one long stride 
to my many short ones.

You pick me up when I fall over
brush me off and send me on my way.
You teach me how to bait a hook and land a fish
yet you never did persuade me to clean one
though I was quite happy to fillet and cook.

You show me how to make scones,
and pluck a poor chicken ..

Much later you look me out for driving lessons
and told me you thought I did very well 
getting through that busy intersection..
and were horrified when I said it was easy.. 
with my eyes closed..
till I burst out laughing. 

You soon warmed to my long term boyfriend
and you became great mates after we were married.
You loved our children and grandchildren
without reservation, 
though saddened that Mum missed them..

You were always the first to offer a hand when needed
you taught us all so much..
in particular, the love of family.

Though you stayed with us longer than most
it could never be enough.
We miss you Dad, two years seems like forever
but we thank you for the legacy you left behind,
our memories wrapped in your love.

(c)Crissouli Oct 18, 2016
Image (c)Crissouli 2007

Saturday, 3 September 2016




A little bit of the past was brought home to me today
wrapped in brown paper, caring and love..
black pen on white had captured the spirit of the past 
a once grand hotel, the Belle Vue, lives again
in the glory of the artist's pen
wrapped grandly in old lace
standing in majestic splendour
beckoning to memories of a grander era..
pleading to be remembered, for the years it served
until it was destroyed in the dead of night
complete with memories and the anguish
of all those who mourned it's untimely demise.


 Accompanying it was an even older sketch 
of memories
fondly known as the Windmill. 
Sketched in the old style, with scenes
evoking thoughts of those who knew our town
so long ago.
What would it have been like to live then?
Alas, we will never know, but we can still dream
providing our city fathers leave us some links 
with the past, with our heritage.

A little bit of the past was brought home to me today
wrapped in brown paper, caring and love.

(c) Crissouli 1983

Sunday, 28 August 2016



Quiet, I was
as I sat beneath the tree
dreaming of how the Australian bush
had been especially made for me.
It was then I heard the sound of strangers
coming through the scrub
so, I climbed up, so very fast,
right up that old gum tree.

'Twas no place for an Irish lad
of this I could be sure
but as the folks got closer,
what they said I could not ignore.
For it seemed they were the Kelly gang
and they talked and planned a raid..
I thought of the saints of Ireland
and begorrah, how I prayed.

I moved a little in my fright
and uttered the smallest sound
alas, lack, it was enough
to be heard there on the ground!
They pulled me down from that tall tree
and gave me such a fright
they said they'd thought they'd kill me
till I told them of my plight.

For I was just a starving Irish lad
right down on my luck
I thought that I was finished
but they admired my pluck.
So, in return for vows of silence,
they kindly paid my fare
back to dear old Ireland
and my kin in County Clare.

(c) Crissouli 1983

 image courtesy of Pixabay


This was based on a story my Great Uncle Martin Dillon told me many years ago in a letter… that one of his brothers was in the bush, looking for work, food, anything and came across the Kelly gang. By the timing, it wasn’t Ned Kelly, but many ‘gangs’ would later claim to have been part of the Kelly gang, so who knows..According to Uncle Martin, they fed his brother and gave him a small sack of money and sent him on his way.

Two of his brothers did come to Australia, Michael and John, known as Jack.  Michael was the first, haven’t found exactly what year as yet, but I think it must have been early 1900s… Ned Kelly died in 1880. Michael sponsored John, then Molly (Mary) pre 1920 and Bridget, along with Susan/Susie in 1923 (though Susan stayed in New Zealand on the way, as another brother, James, was already there). 

Michael returned to Ireland to take over the family farm as their brother, Patrick, became ill. John was killed timber felling in the bush near Coffs Harbour in 1918 and is buried in an unmarked grave there. Molly married a Gerald (Edward G.) McDermott, in Australia in 1917.. he was killed in April 1918, a few short months after their marriage. Molly later married Tom Foley in 1920. 

Bridget was to marry Roy Leonard Swadling in 1924… they were my grandparents. She died when my mother was just 11, in 1942.
(c) Crissouli August 2016